


Trapped

by TheNightbloodSolution



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Season/Series 06, not really spec but more of an exploration of jordan's mental state, well more like what his mental state could be but I don't think the show will go with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:43:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightbloodSolution/pseuds/TheNightbloodSolution
Summary: A journey to the ground through Jordan's eyes.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got this idea from Shannon Kook's on set interview and took a couple concepts from there that I wanted to explore while writing this fic. I'll go into more detail in the notes at the bottom.

It’s hard to know if you’re insane when you have nothing to compare it to. It’s hard to know anything at all when there’s nothing to compare it to.

Some days, Jordan wanders around the ship with the urge to just scream at the top of his lungs. Some days he does.

Other days, he’s thankful, so thankful that he has his parents and the love around him. That he gets to play chess with his dad and watch old video clips with his mom. He’s loved and he’s happy.

Other days still, he wishes he’d never been born. He wanders by the airlock aimlessly, wondering what it’d be like to open the door and fling himself out into space. At least it’d be something new. (He never does.)

He knows some things, at least. He knows computer programming more than most, and he can steer a large space ship like it's ingrained in his DNA. He decodes the Eligius file with his dad for fun; it’s like piecing together a puzzle. He knows combat, basic boxing from his mother; they used to spar every day, but Jordan sees her bones getting weaker and her reflexes slower, so he tells her he’s just not that into fighting anymore. So, sure, he _knows_ things.

But he doesn’t _know_ know. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have a real friend, one that’s not his parents. He doesn’t know what his heroes would really be like if they woke up from cryosleep. He doesn’t know if Murphy would be as funny as he is in Jordan’s head or if Clarke as wise. He doesn’t know what chocolate cake tastes like, no matter how many times his dad describes it to him. He doesn’t know what anything tastes like, other than algae.

He doesn’t know what having a crush is like, or how romantic love feels. He sees it with his parents, and he thinks he might understand when they talk about the things they sacrificed to be with each other, or all the ways Bellamy and Clarke found each other on Earth, but it’s one thing to know theoretically and another entirely to feel. He’s never gotten to love a girl (or guy, as his mom reminded him, they’ll love him no matter what. As if Jordan will ever get a chance to love anyone at all.)

“Jordan! Dinner’s ready!” He hears his mom call.

He could shuffle around more of the ship, travel through more rooms he’s already seen every nook and cranny of, but his stomach is rumbling, and he really is hungry.

Jordan walks into the main cabin of the ship, where the table is set with three bowls of algae and a large candle burning bright in the center.

Jordan frowns. “You didn’t have to do the candle thing this year,” He takes the first scoop of his algae just after sitting down, “It’s a waste of resources.” They do this is every year on his birthday, make him blow out a candle to commemorate a year, then watch the wick burn down together. But there are only so many candles left.

“We had to celebrate your twenty-fourth,” His mother states matter-of-factly.

“It’s a special day,” His father chimes in.

They eat the rest of that meal in silence.

When spoons clank against empty bowls, his father speaks up again. “We got you something.”

Jordan smiles a little half-smile. His parents always get him something – a story, a new one, each year. He’s pretty much heard all their stories of course, after years of being tucked into bed, but on his birthday, they’ll try to get creative, avoid re-tellings. They’ve had to get pretty out there for that past couple years. (“Did you ever hear about the ghost on Alpha Station?”)

“I think you’ve told me every story there is to tell.”

His mother grips his father’s hand, hard. Her knuckles are slowly turning white.

“It’s actually not a story this year, son.” His father says.

“It’s a choice,” His mother finishes softly. That’s an odd habit they’ve picked up over the years – finishing each other’s sentences.

“A choice,” Jordan echoes.

“We chose this life,” His father says, “And we love it and we love you. But you didn’t choose it,” His voice cracks. “And now you’re old enough. It’s time for you to decide.”

His mother blinks back tears. “Know that there’s no right answer. We will love you no matter what you choose.”

For the little choices Jordan makes every day, to scream or not to scream, the choice not to open the airlock, which room on the ship to spend his waking hours in, this is the first decision he’s barely had to think about at all. He chooses to live. And to live, he has to sleep.

***

Jordan feels smaller than he has in years, lying in his pod, the glass just inches from his face threatening to close over him.

His mother and father’s faces are skewed from this angle, too long and too sharp, but their eyes are still dripping as they say their goodbyes.

“One last story?” Jordan asks.

His mother nods, but can’t seem to start, so his father does it for her, “There once was a boy more important than the cosmos. He spent his whole life in space, not knowing anything else. And he was raised with love and laughter,” (“So much love,” his mother murmurs), “But there was loneliness too. His best friends were the stars outside the window, but he shined brighter than they ever could. And then one day, he pricked his finger on a thorn,” His father mimes the action, the same he used to when telling stories to Jordan as a child.

“An algae thorn,” His mother picks the story up, finally gathering the courage to speak, “Very rare, and very poisonous. The thorn put him to sleep, and he slept for longer than anyone thought he could. But when he woke up, the world was beautiful. When he woke up, he got to live.”

The glass starts to slide over his face, advancing faster than the tear rolling down his mother’s cheek.

“Goodbye, son.”

***

For all he’s been lonely, Jordan has never been alone until the day he wakes up from cryo. The air is stiller than he’s ever felt it, but his cryopod is open, while the rest are still shut. The same way its been his whole life.

At first, he thinks it’s a mistake, his parents let him out early because they missed him, or the system glitched. But then he nears the control panel, and the smell hits him.

It’s putrid. Jordan coughs and wants to run away, but then he catches sight of the rotting corpse sitting at the front.

“Dad!” He cries, running over despite the protests of his nostrils. “Dad...” He whispers.

The body’s been dead for years. Jordan felt like he went to sleep last night and now… Well, now, everything’s changed.

For the first time in his life, he opens up the airlock, but he’s not standing anywhere near it.

“In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

He lets his father’s body out into space. It flies away.

The control panel is filled with video logs, but the most recent one, simply titled “Jordan” is the one he opens first.

“Jordan, if you’re watching this, it means I finally found it. You’re going to want to wake up Bellamy and Clarke first…”

***

Nothing is the way he thought it’d be. No one is who he thought they were.

Bellamy is too quiet. Clarke, too sad. Murphy hasn’t cracked a single joke since he was woken from cryo. Echo, too cold. Emori, too sharp. He doesn’t think the stories his parents told were lies, but he’s starting to believe it was only _their_ truth.

Raven and Shaw have commandeered the control panel, and it makes him irrationally angry, because he’s sure he knows this ship better than either of them. (But he’d never say it aloud.)

And no one will look him in the eyes. He tries to put on a good face, the same way he did in the last few years with his parents. He tries to pretend it’s okay, to make everyone around him feel better. But when they look at him, they all see ghosts.

All but one. Octavia stares him straight in the eyes. The Red Queen. Something tells him she’s seen so many ghosts already, he doesn’t faze her.

***

The first party to the ground is small. Himself, Bellamy, Clarke, Echo, Murphy, Emori, and Octavia. Raven and Shaw are left at the controls on the ship.

The landing is rough, and he’s certain he could’ve handled it better.

It’s only a matter of moments before the door lifts open, before air hits his face, before he’s free.

His mind briefly registers the whispers behind him, an inside joke between two. Bellamy says, “The air could be toxic,” and Clarke replies for only him to hear, “If the air’s toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” But Jordan hears.

And maybe these people aren’t so different from the ones in his stories after all. Maybe they’re all just a little bit broken.

The door to the ship shutters open loudly, releasing a burst of steam as the world is revealed to him for the first time.

Turning next to him, he sees Octavia has stepped forward, awe on her face almost matching his own.

Maybe the stories were right about her too. Maybe she was never the Red Queen, but just the girl under the floor. Trapped. Just like him.

Slowly, he extends a hand to her and asks, “Together?”

She looks dubious, and doesn’t respond, but takes his hand nonetheless.

Both their feet hit the ground at the same time.

Jordan feels the suns on his face. He sees trees all around him. He smells the scent of wildflowers on a breeze. It’s so beautiful.

His whisper is lost all but himself, Octavia, and the wind.

“We’re back, bitches.”

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing Shannon's interview, there were a lot of points about Jordan that stuck out to me, some of which I wanted to conform to, like him feeling like a teenager at points and the fact that when Jordan meets his heroes, they're not going to be who he wants them to be.
> 
> But also, there were some things in the interview that made me want to write the opposite. Like the mentions of Jordan being an optimistic personality and that he was raised in a place of love, which I am super excited for and I think is something the 100 desperately needs - more positive characters - but I wanted to take this chance to explore his mental state even though he was raised in a place of love, that he still has problems, and I'm not sure how much of that we're really going to get in the show based on Shannon's interview. I also threw in the Octavia bit because while Shannon said there'd be parallels, it didn't really sound like the Octavia/Jordan relationship would be too heavily focused upon in Season 6, and that's something I really wish they would explore. There's a lot of potential with two such similar characters that diverge so heavily.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you thought about this in the comments if you want! You can find me on [tumblr](https://clarkgriffon.tumblr.com) here.


End file.
